


Secret Admirer

by bleeeeeeep



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Cheesiness, Dirty Talk, M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:44:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4870561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleeeeeeep/pseuds/bleeeeeeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somebody keeps leaving poetic notes on Harvey's desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Admirer

**Author's Note:**

> I still don't know what I'm doing... but this is fun. so whatever. I hope you like this!

Nothing from a secret admirer has gotten Harvey as perplexed as the note he found one faithful morning.  The handwriting looked familiar but, he couldn’t figure out who.  Who did he know would have written such a corny thing?

 

_Roses are red,_

_violets aren_ _’_ _t blue,_

_but no matter-_

_I just really want to fuck you._

_(Literally. Your ass looks so fantastic in those tailored trousers that I_ _’_ _d like nothing more than to_ _…_ _well, you can figure it out.)_

What a sorry excuse of a poem.  He’s still determined to find out who wrote it.

Work first. By the time he decides to have lunch, Harvey has finished a third of the stack of paperwork on his desk. Not bad for being distracted. He’s no closer to solving this mystery, but whatever.  Lunch beckons.

When he comes back from an hour of food consumption and pondering, there’s another note.  It’s a set of haikus this time. _A man after my own heart_ , he sighs inwardly.

_I like when your face_  
is flushed red, showing me how  
I _’_ _m under your skin._

_You_ _’_ _re underneath me,_  
refusing to plead; begging  
is so beneath you.

_I like the idea_  
of tying you up, watching  
your pride resist me.

Shit. Not that he’d ever discuss this with anybody, but he likes being tied up.  There’s no note this time. However, there’s plenty of inappropriate images in his mind now.

They’re definitely going to have sex when he figures out whom it is.  He’s already established that it’s a man and somebody he works with. But who?  Hopefully it’s not Louis because he does not want to have sex with Louis. Especially not if he’s the one that’s… not on top.  Actually, if it’s Louis, they are definitely not having sex.

Maybe it’s Mike.  He wants it to be Mike.  He wants to sit in his lap and ride whatever those trousers are hiding. It would be the perfect excuse. If only there was a clue somewhere.

He resumes tending to his pile of work again.  Seeing as his job does not entail being a detective that catches secret admirers, he has no excuse to investigate.

At precisely three o’clock, he decides to take a coffee break.  One very necessary one.  He’s not actually getting coffee, but hot dog break sounds weird.

Of course, upon his return, there’s another poem on his desk.  Harvey can hardly be considered surprised.  Who even has time to do this at work?  This time, his name has been made a part of it. It’s an acrostic.

 

_Have you been made  
Aware of your tendencies to be  
Really  
Very  
Edible and how much I_ _’_ _d like to swallow_  
Your cock?

It’s kind of crass, but now he has another adjective to add to the list of words people have used to describe him. He supposes it’s okay.

Back to work Harvey goes.  Now that he’s distracted, his mind begins to wonder from who the mysterious poet could be to how he hasn’t seen Mike all day. Not a single visit from the rookie that doesn’t know how to knock.  Donna hasn’t mentioned Mike all day. In fact, she’s barely said anything. He’s hardly spoken to anybody.

He guesses it’s just ‘one of those days.’  And regains focus.  A few hours later, when it’s almost time to leave, Mike knocks on the glass.

“I’ve finally finished reading the contract you told me to review,” Mike says, rubbing his eyes.

“That’s why you’ve been so quiet.  I was beginning to think somebody stapled your mouth shut,” Harvey just gets an eye roll in return.  “Just set it on the coffee table, thanks.”

Mike nods and heads out of his office.

Once he’s left, Harvey walks over to see what needs to be changed.  There aren’t too many notes in the margins, but just enough to make him sigh. Then, he looks a little closer to read the comments.  Shit.

That’s when he notices the handwriting. It looks incredibly familiar. He scrambles around his own desk for the notes left by his admirer throughout the day.  Yup.  It’s the same.  And for the record, Harvey Specter does not say ‘yup.’

He simply sets all the paper down and walks out of the office.  “You were in on it, weren’t you?” he accuses when he reaches Donna’s desk.  She just winks.

Next stop, Mike’s cubicle.  He sees Harvey coming and cocks an eyebrow.  Harvey doesn’t speak.  He just plants himself in Mike’s lap.  Nobody’s left at the office to see.

“Harvey, what the fuck?”   The eyebrow raises even higher.  Harvey wiggles a little.  He still doesn’t want to talk.  “Seriously? What are you doing?”

He just squirms even more and crosses his arms.  Mike can feel the blood rushing to his nether regions.  Oh.  He starts to laugh. “I can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out!  I’d forgotten about it, honestly.”

Harvey can’t believe he’s being mocked after the day he’s had.  He thinks about pouting (which is something he never does) before turning around and kissing the mean, mean man whose legs he plans on properly straddling later.

“Come home with me,” he whispers against soft lips.

Mike can only nod.  He seems to have temporarily lost capability of speech. All the better. This way, they can make out like teenagers in the back of Ray’s car.

They scramble to pack up their things and meet at the elevator.  Well, Mike scrambles.  Harvey just gathers his belongings very quickly.  There’s silence until they reach the backseat and the partition is up.

Harvey beckons Mike over. Like the puppy with newly discovered sneakiness, he obeys.  “Closer.” Mike comes a little closer. “After we get inside, I’m going to make you strip, tie you to the bed, and –” he pauses for effect, “finger myself open until I’m loose and dripping wet for you.  Then, I'm going to ride you so hard that you see stars.”

Mike can only bite his lip and whimper as a response.  He hadn’t expected Harvey to actually want him when (not if, because it’s Harvey Specter we’re talking about here) he discovered the poem-writing culprit.  Now that it was actually about to happen, he was too excited to actually _do anything_ , but let Harvey take control _._

Wait.  Harvey’s actually really fucking good at taking control, so there is actually nothing to be nervous about. Oh.  Okay.  Cool.

At last, they arrive. Mike’s been to the penthouse before, but never for this reason.  His heart is practically beating out of his chest, like Harvey’s is, but to state the obvious, Harvey would never admit to being nervous about sex.

The elevator ride is a silent one because anticipation is keeping both of them occupied enough.  As soon as the door shuts, Harvey slams Mike against the wall and calmly looks him in the eye.  “If you don’t take your shoes off nicely and set that god awful messenger bag down neatly beside them, I’m going to blindfold you so you can’t watch your dick slide in and out of my ass.”

Mike, of course, groans. Despite being half-hard, he has never been more careful about his belongings.  He even tucks the laces into his shoes after he takes them off. “That’s a good boy.”  There’s a lustful twinkle in his eye as Harvey says it.  He turns around and walks to the bedroom. Mike stands for a second, blinking before following.

“I can’t believe you actually want me.”   He finally manages to blurt out. “I mean, I meant what I wrote and I expected you to figure me out, but we’re actually doing this.” Mike shrugs off his blazer and starts on his belt.

“Do you have any idea how badly the haiku made me want to be bent in half and fucked earlier?” The way Harvey strips off his pants as he talks makes Mike unable to quantify.

“No, but if you’re going to be the one tying me up, so… I’m guessing you don’t want to anymore?”  If somebody had told Mike that he would be having a conversation about who would be the one getting tied up before sex with his boss, he would’ve kindly called a mental institution for the poor deluded soul.

“Who says we’re only going for one round?”  Goddamnit.  Harvey has his smirk plastered on again.  “Now if you would please strip down to your boxers, we can start.” The tent in his underwear makes Mike want to ignore his own and follow through with the acrostic he spent part of his lunch break writing.

Mike didn’t even bother to remove the remainder of his apparel in a tantalizing fashion.  Harvey watched anyway.  Needless to say, his confidence level shot up.  As soon was he was in nothing but navy blue boxers, he pushed Harvey with both hands onto the bed.  Fuck being obedient.  They could do what Harvey mentioned in the car some other time.

“ _You t_ ake off your shirt,” he _ordered_ , as he went to get his tie.  “Now, give me your tie.  Then, put your arms above your head on the pillow and close your eyes.”

It wasn’t exactly necessary to have Harvey close his eyes.  He knew what was about to happen, but just for effect, he did it anyway. Being the one that was tied up for a change was refreshing.  “You can open them now if you’d like.”

The first thing he saw was Mike straddling him.  The second thing he saw was a flirtatious poet leaning down to kiss him.  He closed his eyes without commands this time, eager to feel soft lips on his own and a wet tongue asking for entrance into his mouth. Making out has never been this perfect.  It was greedy, but sweet.  The way Mike savored contact between their mouths made him feel sexy and cared for, as if getting off wasn’t the only point of this.  Of course he kissed back with an equal amount of effort.

Being unable to touch Mike was hell, but there was something about having to place his trust in someone else that made it acceptable.  As fantastic as kissing felt, frottage didn’t feel like enough. For a second, Harvey stops kissing back long enough to whisper, “Fuck me.”

With the cheekiest smile ever, Mike says, “Your wish is my command.”  He proceeds to slither his way down the length of Harvey’s body, taking licks and nips at the soft olive skin stretched over muscles that he would’ve thought were made of carved marble had they not been warm with blood.

“How is it even legal to be this gorgeous?” he mumbles against a smooth hipbone before marking it.

“I’ll explain the legalities to you later when I feel thoroughly fucked.  Or if we still remember this discussion in the morning.  Don’t make me beg.” Mike looked up to find a rather desperate-looking boss and he’s got half a mind to do the opposite of what he’s been told, but it’d be torture for him, too. He pulls black silk boxers off as efficiently as possible.

“Spread for me?” he goes for the lubricant conveniently placed on the nightstand.

When his fingers are nice and coated, he hears a “Start with two.”

“But-”

Harvey cuts him off.  “Just do it.  I like it this way.”  He even bends his knees to expose himself even more.

Mike can’t help but to take a lick of the pretty pink hole before following orders.  “Fuck, you’re tight.”

Harvey can only respond breathlessly, “Move. Please.”

A few thrusts later, he adds another finger.  It’s mesmerizing watching his fingers disappear into Harvey’s body. 

“Enough already,” Harvey practically whines – well, it was as close to a whine as Harvey Specter gets.

This is good news because Mike can’t stand it anymore.  He reaches again to the nightstand for a condom and shimmies his own underwear off. Fuck, putting it on is such a struggle, but he manages.  The eagerness on Harvey’s face is entirely worth it when he positions himself at puckered little entrance.

His glide in is slow and as steady as one could get in this situation.  Mike learns soon enough that heaven is not just a place on Earth.  Heaven is the sensation of Harvey clenching around his cock.

Neither of them manage to last long. It only takes Mike half a dozen cycles of pushing in, rolling his hips, and pulling out for both of them to literally see white.

Relief at last.  _Fuck._ Mike replays what just happened in his mind as he practically collapses next to Harvey.  Chiseled calves thrown over his shoulders, heated walls practically sucking him in – he’s in love with the way Harvey throws his head back to let Mike devour his neck. “God, you’re good.”

“I prefer ‘Harvey,’ but ‘God’ just as well.  Now untie me.”

Mike rolls his eyes before he obeys. “You can keep your nickname if you prove yourself worthy during round two.”

“You’re on.” The glint of mischief in brown eyes darkened by lust lets him know the challenge has been accepted.

_Babe, you don_ _’_ _t know what you_ _’_ _ve just gotten yourself into._ Harvey lets out a little chuckle in his head.

By the time he’s been tied up, Mike is half hard again.  Harvey pulls his condom off with an obnoxious pop and goes to throw it out.

When he comes back to bed, naked as ever, Mike lets himself eye-fuck Harvey shamelessly from starting with his legs up. Christ, even his smirk is irresistible.

“Bet you’re wishing you’d made a move sooner, aren’t you?” Mike would love to try and kiss that crooked smile off his face if he thought it would be of any use.  Well, he’d love to kiss Harvey anyway.

“By the way you sound in bed, I’d say you’re wishing I’d done so, too,” he shoots back.

“I’m not denying it.” Why is slyness so attractive again?

Mike lets out a chuckle. “Then why are we still talking?”

The conversation ended there. Their night didn’t.

And just in case you were wondering, Harvey did prove himself worthy of the title.  (As if there was any doubt to begin with.)

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to let them have some privacy...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
